


Bloody Stupid

by Wind_Ryder



Series: Tumblr Fics [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Child Care, Gen, Kidnapped, Stalker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-08
Updated: 2014-05-08
Packaged: 2018-01-23 23:32:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1583426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wind_Ryder/pseuds/Wind_Ryder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: Archie's mom has been kidnapped and Sherlock agrees to take care of him until he can find her. Mary and baby Watson help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bloody Stupid

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ImpishTubist](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImpishTubist/gifts).



> Impishtubist: SOMEONE WRITE FIC WHERE SHERLOCK AND MARY NEED TO TAKE CARE OF ARCHIE FOR SOME REASON. Like, I dunno, his mother gets kidnapped and he’s all on his own and Sherlock feels this bond with this kid so he takes him in and Mary helps him out because they’re completely & utterly in love. And Baby Watson is there, too, and they become this weird little BAMF family.
> 
> Anon: prompt! :) sherlock and archie interacting (maybe cooking or something?) :D
> 
>  
> 
> ___________________________________
> 
> This series contains a stand alone stories that were prompted or otherwise posted on my tumblr page. They have not been beta'd and are just flights of fancy. 
> 
> Feel free to let me know if you see any mistakes.

There was really nothing that could be done. Robyn had no family, no contacts, no life outside of her son and her colleagues. Sherlock had been straightening his coat and wrapping his scarf around his neck, preparing to leave the station, when he caught sight of the little boy trailing behind an officer. “What’s Archie doing here?” He asked, glancing over towards where Lestrade was finishing up some paperwork. The DI frowned and looked up.

 

“Archie…?”

 

“Archie Tailor. Robyn Tailor’s son.” At Lestrade’s continued expression of bemusement, Sherlock scowled. “Robyn Tailor, Mary and John’s LPN at the clinic?”

 

“Believe it or not, Sherlock, I don’t keep track of every LPN where they work.”

 

“She was at the wedding. Archie was the boy who-”

 

“Oh! The one who solved your case!”

 

“He didn’t solve it, he was just astoundingly more helpful than the seasoned Scotland Yard detective sitting to his right.” Sherlock snapped back. “Now what’s he doing here?” Lestrade shrugged and stood up. He walked towards the door and peered out into the bullpen. Sure enough, a curly haired child was standing listlessly in the corner. He was hugging a bag close to his chest, and he looked utterly despondent.

 

“Oh Christ.” Lestrade muttered. “That’s Sergeant Mackie. He’s the police liaison with CPS.” Sherlock didn’t recognize him. Then again, the amount of time he worked with police liaisons with CPS were non-existent. He couldn’t even recall the last child that had been involved in a case. Likely that boy from Moriarty’s bombing spree.

 

“CPS? Robyn’s hardly the type to abuse her child.”

 

“No. I don’t think she was.” Lestrade grimaced. “Give me a minute.” He slipped passed Sherlock and walked towards Mackie. They started talking in low voices, and Archie curled in on himself even more. Lestrade noticed, and carefully guided Mackie a bit further away to continue speaking with him out of Archie’s hearing range.

 

 Sherlock approached with caution. He had never spoken to a distraught child before. Olivia didn’t count, her complaints were devoted to nappy changes and bottle feedings, nothing that was capable of being reasoned with. Olivia always proved a harsh negotiator, refusing to stop crying until her demands were met. Sherlock had been reliably informed that most children were like that, and it would get better in time. Sherlock had no intentions of letting that be the case. It showed remarkable inner strength- her iron willed resistance to perceived authority. She should use it to her advantage. But Olivia was still an infant, whereas Archie was almost ten. Speaking to him would be quite different.

 

“Archie?” He asked cautiously. The boy’s head snapped up immediately and tossed his backpack to the side. He threw his arms around Sherlock’s body and squeezed him tight. Sherlock was always flatfooted whenever Archie did this. He was never expecting it, and it always took him a moment to respond.

 

“Please, please Mr. Holmes, you’re a detective. I’ll hire you. Please, Mr. Holmes!”

 

“Hire me for what, Archie?” Sherlock asked him, resting a hand on his shoulder. He tried to dislodge the boy, perhaps gain some eye contact, but Archie was proving remarkably resilient. There was that great infant inner strength. Well done, Archie.

 

“My mum – she’s gone. I don’t know where. Please find her. I’ll give you my whole life savings! I know it’s only five pounds, but it’s all I have. Please don’t let them send me away.” Archie pulled the five pound note from his pocket and shoved it into Sherlock’s hands, clutching his small paws around the detective’s larger ones until he gripped the note in turn.

 

“I’ll take the case, Archie.” Sherlock promised him. “But I won’t take your money.”

 

“ _No!_ You’re a detective and I’m your client, and you won’t treat me seriously unless I’m a real client. Please!” Archie begged earnestly. Sherlock felt his stomach turn at his cries.

 

“All right. Then you’re my client.” He pocketed the note. “Now, listen to me very carefully. You are in possession of the facts that I need to sort this. Now, before Mackie and Lestrade return, I need you to tell me everything. Do you understand?” He nodded wildly, tears pressing out of his eyes. “Good. Now start at the beginning.”

 

Archie had been at school when it happened. When the last bell rang, he walked to the local library. He was supposed to go there, finish his homework, and read a book until his mother came for him. Except at seven-thirty, she was more than two-and-a-half-hours late. He used some emergency money she had given him to call her mobile. She didn’t answer. She called the clinic- they said she hadn’t been in all day. He called the house number, but there was still no response. He went to a deli next to the library and bought dinner, then returned to wait for her. At ten, the library was closing. One of the staff members saw him still waiting, and called the police. No one had seen his mother at all. She’d simply disappeared.

 

“She always said she wanted to go to Italy, but she wouldn’t go without me. Please tell me she didn’t go without me.” Archie pleaded, ignoring the tears in his eyes. A trail of snot was leaking from his nostrils, and he snorted loudly as he tried unsuccessfully to pull it back. He rubbed the back of his sleeve against his face, and Sherlock grimaced.

 

“She didn’t go to Italy without you.” He promised. If there was one thing she was certain of, Robyn Tailor loved her son. The amount of times she’d thanked him for letting Archie talk to him, for being so good with him, for genuinely treating him right bordered on the obsessive. She wasn’t used to men treating Archie like he was a person and not a hindrance, and Archie wasn’t used to it either. Robyn was a single mother, and there was a reason for it. She wouldn’t allow anyone near her son if he was a threat. She wouldn’t go to Italy on a whim, leaving Archie in a library, by himself, for the police to collect.

 

“Oi! Holmes! Leave the boy alone, he’s been through enough without you making things worse.” Glancing over his shoulder he frowned at the officer approaching them. The name escaped him. Don-something. After his return, there were fewer outliers who openly abused him. Even Donovan had miraculously lost some of her frigid demeanor. They were by no means courteous to him, but they remained professional nonetheless. There were, however, some outliers. Don-whomever was one of them. The officer reached out to nudge Archie away. “Come along, you don’t need to be near him.” He offered sotto voce.

 

“You leave Mr. Holmes alone, fart face!” Archie snapped, swiping tears from his eyes and shoving the officer away from him. He latched back onto Sherlock’s waist, and glared at him.

 

Sherlock was at a loss as to what he was meant to do. He blinked at the officer, who was equally flat footed, and then back down at the boy attempting to morph into him. John would probably instruct him to correct Archie’s language. “Archie, ‘fart face’ is hardly an appropriate term to call an officer of the law.” Don-something looked startled he’d bothered to correct Archie’s language in the first place. Confusion warred with inbred manners, and he seemed on the verge of thanking the consultant. “‘Ignoramus’ works much better. As does: ‘incompetent,’ ‘moron,’ and ‘unobservant idiot.’ My godchild prefers the term ‘bloody stupid,’ though she’s only seventeen months, and perhaps can be forgiven for her lack of creativity. She does only repeat what we say.”  John was rather put out when Olivia started to use that phrase thanks to one mistimed rant on Sherlock’s part. Mary thought it was funny at least. She was giving cursing lessons behind John’s back. Sherlock occasionally joined in.

 

“Good to see we’re all making friends here.” Lestrade commented. He must have finished his discussion with Mackie and was now returning to delivery his own news. From his expression, he’d caught at least Sherlock’s comments, and almost certainly Archie’s declaration. He was amused more than anything. “I’ve got this Coulson.” Lestrade said to Don-something. Or, Sherlock supposed, it was likely he never was a Don-something to begin with. He never was good with names. Coulson left with a huff, and Lestrade crouched to meet Archie’s eyes. “Don’t know if you remember me, I’m-”

 

“Detective Inspector Gregory Lestrade. I have your warrant card.” A muscle in Lestrade’s cheek twitched, and Sherlock shifted awkwardly.

 

“Seemed like a good idea at the time.” He excused mutinously.

 

“I’m sure it did.” Lestrade muttered. “How’re you holding up, Archie?”

 

“I want my mom. I hired Mr. Holmes to find her.”

 

“Did you now? Well Sherlock’s the very best there is. He’s a good man to have on your case.”

 

“What are his housing arrangements going to be until this is resolved?” Sherlock asked, cutting to the chase before Lestrade could pad this any further. The DI scowled at him.

 

“Mackie’s arranging a temporary-”

 

“He can stay with me.”

 

“Really?!” Archie’s tears seemed to evaporate.

 

“What?” Lestrade’s intelligence went with it.

 

“It’s perfectly reasonable. Archie has taken me on as his private detective to solve his mother’s case. I’ve been paid a five-pound note to locate his mother and bring her home to him. As my client, it is my responsibility to ensure that his safety is my highest priority while I attend to his case. I have a flat, he’s familiar with it, he won’t have to be relocated to a stranger, and his school is close enough. Isn’t restricting the amount of change a child is impacted with during a time of need supposed to be one of those endeavors you strive for?”

 

“Sherlock-” Lestrade started, shaking his head in an attempt to put some sense into things.

 

“I’ll be very good. I won’t argue much at all.” Archie cut in, squeezing Sherlock’s coat in his tiny fists. “Please?”

 

“Sherlock, you can’t just take him home.” Lestrade argued, shaking his head in dismay.

 

“Why not?”

 

“Because…well…you’re not exactly set up for this are you? I mean, don’t you still have a head in the freezer or something?”

 

“Do you really? Can I see it? What are you doing with it?” Archie looked even more impressed than before, and Lestrade winced at his poor choice of words. Sherlock gently eased Archie off him once more and made a quick excuse about finalizing paperwork before he escorted Lestrade back to where Mackie was. Surely signatures were going to be involved here.

 

“For whatever reason, Archie seems to like me. He’s not thinking about his mother if he’s…thinking about other things. Besides, should her kidnapper decide that he’s a loose end needing to be cleaned up, isn’t it more wise to leave him in the care of someone who at least won’t hesitate to shoot him when he comes through the door?” Lestrade blinked at that.

 

“You want me to agree to let a traumatized ten year old boy stay with you because you’ll murder the man who might wish him harm?” He clarified.

 

“Isn’t that what child-care-taker-people do?” Sherlock blinked curiously.

 

“Not usually to that extent, no.”

 

“Shame.” Sherlock shrugged. “So do I have permission, or no?”

 

“You like him, don’t you?”

 

“Archie? He’s agreeable for a child.”

 

“Don’t play coy, you actually like him.” Lestrade grinned and nudged Sherlock’s shoulder. “You know, interest in dead things, curly hair, long lost relation?”

 

“If it will help you to convince CPS to let me take him in, you can call me whatever you want.” Sherlock informed him primly. Lestrade rolled his eyes at the missed joke.

 

“I’ll get it sorted. Don’t do anything stupid.”

 

“I want her case file.” Sherlock instructed Lestrade firmly. “I’ll take him home, but it’s not permanent. He’ll go back to his mother, and for that to happen she needs to be found. I want her case file.”

 

“I’ll forward you all the information I can once I get the case signed over.” Lestrade agreed. “You really take a kid’s fiver?”

 

“I’ll give it back to him when he’s not looking.” Sherlock shrugged. Lestrade laughed.

 

 “Come on, you’ll need to explain this to Mackie.”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Archie fell asleep in the cab on the way back to Baker Street. It was well passed one in the morning by that point, and as tough as he was: he still was a child. His head rested against Sherlock’s shoulder the whole while, breathing deeply even as he hugged his backpack to his chest.

 

“Late night hm?” The cabbie asked, and Sherlock hummed in response. His hand reached into his pocket and he ran his thumb over his phone’s screen. There were several people he should probably contact in order to set things up. His flat had become baby-proofed once Olivia was born, and so despite Lestrade’s teasing – there really wasn’t much that needed to be picked up and kept out of the way from prying eyes or hands.

 

Without the case file to work on, Sherlock was at a standstill. The facts were clear. Archie’s mother had disappeared somewhere between when she dropped him off at school, and before she was due to arrive at work. That was a twenty-minute window. Mycroft could pull the CCTV cameras to track the car’s progress. That was a start for now.

 

**_I need you to pull footage of a blue Toyota Camry plate number L89 HRH, owned by Robyn Tailor for the past twenty-four hours. SH_ **

****

**_Also, any phone or email records to any of her accounts for the past six months. SH_ **

****

A worse insomniac than Sherlock, even if he pretended not to be, Mycroft replied almost instantly.

 

**_Feeling parental? MH_ **

****

**_Feeling lonely? SH_ **

 

He tapped back. Mycroft didn’t reply, and Sherlock hadn’t expected him to. He raised the phone to his lips, tapping it against them for a brief moment before lowering it and locating a different contact. He checked his watch before sending the text. Olivia usually was reminded of her teeth growing in around this time of night. Someone was bound to wake soon.

 

**_Possibly need your help tomorrow, interested? SH_ **

****

There was radio silence for the remainder of the journey. The cab pulled to a stop, and Sherlock paid the cabbie quickly. He nudged Archie. “We’re here.” He told him. The boy blinked around them owlishly, before slowly clambering out of the car. The bag dragged slightly, hanging by its strap from his hand like a limp doll.

 

Sherlock carefully guided him up inside and up the steps. He glanced around the living room for a moment, before shrugging out of his coat and hanging it up. “You can sleep in my room.” He offered, motioning towards the door. Archie glanced at it uncertainly.

 

“With you?”  


“No, of course not. I don’t sleep often. I’ll stay out here.”

 

“What about…pajamas?” Sherlock blinked. He hadn’t considered that. He walked into his room and opened one of his dressers. Withdrawing one of his shirts and flannel bottoms, he offered it to the boy.

 

“You can…roll up the legs.” He offered awkwardly, though considering how short he was the shirt would likely be just fine.

 

“Toothbrush?” Another roadblock. He had no idea children were so fastidious about hygiene. Olivia seemed perfectly content going through her days covered in food, mud, and paint. New generation, he supposed.

 

“Could you possibly go without for one night?” He asked, straining to remember when the last time he saw a spare toothbrush was. He never bought more than he needed, which was one, and he was fairly certain John took all the jumbo packs _he_ purchased when he moved out all those years ago.

 

“I’ll get a cavity.”

 

“Not over night you wont.”

 

“That’s not what my mom says.”

 

“Well your mom is wrong.”

 

“Is she?”

 

“Yes.” Archie grinned.

 

“Cool.” Apparently satisfied, he looked around Sherlock’s room with interest. “It’s very clean.”

 

“Thank you.”

 

“My room’s not clean.”

 

“You’ll have to work on that.”

 

“Suppose so.” Archie shrugged.

 

“You should…go to sleep.” He suggested, struggling to work out what exactly he was meant to say at this particular moment. Archie nodded and went towards the bed to set the clothes down. Sherlock made a sedate retreat towards the door.

 

“Mr. Holmes?” Archie asked, calling his attention back to him in an instant.

 

“Yes, Archie?”

 

“Thank you.” He whispered. “I know you’ll find my mom.”

 

“I’ll do my best.” Sherlock promised. “Goodnight.”

 

“‘Night.”

 

Sherlock’s text alert came in just as he shut the door.

 

**_Sure, what’s going on? MW_ **

 

**_Robyn’s missing. I presume kidnapped, though need more evidence to verify. Archie’s staying with me while I look for her. May require some assistance. SH_ **

****

It took less than a minute for the name _Mary Watson_ to appear above a dancing telephone where the texting box used to be. He slid his finger across the screen and answered it as he walked into the living room. “I really didn’t expect you to call.”

 

“Robyn’s a friend, she works with us every day. What happened?”

 

“I haven’t seen the file yet, Lestrade is getting it to me in the morning.”

 

“You usually ask John for help on cases.”

 

“I don’t need him for this.” Sherlock denied. “Mycroft is working out the details now, it shouldn’t take long to find her. With any luck she’ll be home by the end of the day tomorrow.”

 

“So what are you asking for?” She asked him. He could here her shushing Olivia who had started to cry in the background. From a slurping noise, he could imagine her rubbing her sore gums gently.

 

“You are…good with children.” Mary laughed at that, and Sherlock frowned. It wasn’t the reaction he was expecting.

 

“So are you.” She told him. “What do you need me for?” That _certainly_ wasn’t the reaction he’d been expecting.

 

“I can’t look after him and solve his mother’s case at the same time. He is familiar with you, and so-”

 

“You’d like me to come by and keep an eye on him?”

 

“If it isn’t too much trouble.”

 

“Mrs. Hudson probably would do it for you.”

 

“She’s away visiting her sister, and he has the distinct pleasure of actually knowing who you are. It is…less traumatic. I’m led to believe.” Mary laughed again, and he could hear her cooing to Olivia as a tired gurgle announced her return to sleep.

 

“It’s a date. I’ll see you in the morning, Sherlock.” He was still working out the wording when she wished him a good night. He managed to respond somewhat appropriately and rang off.

 

Mycroft would have made some form of progress with Archie’s mother by now, and so he flipped open his laptop. It was going to be a long night.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Mary stopped by at eight, Olivia bouncing on her hip. She let herself in like she normally did, and Sherlock glanced up briefly to ensure neither needed any assistance. Olivia’s eyes zeroed in on him immediately and waved her chubby arms in his direction. “Will!” She declared loudly.

 

“Good morning, Olivia. How are you?” He asked her, even as her mother shoved her into his arms and threw herself onto the couch. Her head tipped back and leaned against the wall, and she practically sagged with exhaustion.

 

“She’s doing _fantastic._ ” Mary complained, even as Sherlock resituated the child on his lap into a more comfortable position.

 

“Long night?” He deduced easily.

 

“You’re welcome to trade.” Mary replied. “At least Archie is toilet trained.”

 

“Yes, but he’s teething too.” He’d spotted the familiar tongue jiggle on a loose tooth just before the boy had fallen asleep in the cab. Mary sighed.

 

“Assassination is easier than this.” She muttered mutinously.

 

“Gob shite!” Olivia declared, much to Sherlock’s amusement. Mary chuckled as well.

 

“Have you learned a new word, Olivia?” Sherlock asked his goddaughter, leaning down to rest his forehead on hers.

 

“Bugger tits!” She informed him delightfully.

 

“That’s my girl.” He kissed her forehead and absently bounced her on his knee while he returned his attention to his laptop.

 

“Archie still sleeping?” Mary asked him from the sofa.

 

“Yes. I didn’t think it entirely necessary to send him to school today.”

 

“Probably for the best, what happened?” He explained Archie’s side of the story easily enough, finishing the discussion with their sleeping arrangements the night before.

 

“Mycroft sent along her telephone and email records. There’s a man here, Jeremy Robbins, he’s contacted her quite frequently.”

 

“I recognize the name.” Mary agreed, sitting forwards on the couch and nodding her head. “We had joked about it when they first met. How if it lasted, Robyn Robbins would be a terrible name.”

 

“Toff!” Olivia suggested.

 

“That’s a good one.” Sherlock informed her with an extra bounce that made her squeal.

 

“Robyn dated Jeremy for a few days back in August. He wanted her to spend more time with him, but she didn’t want to leave Archie alone. He kept pushing, she broke it off.” Mary continued.

 

“He sent her quite a few texts and emails since then.” Sherlock said, tapping several keys with perfect accuracy and speed despite only using one hand. “He suggested they get away for a few days, make a better life, just the two of them. He ignored any mention of Archie, going so far as to specify it would only ever be the two of them.”

 

“Tosser!” Olivia decided.

 

“Indeed.” Sherlock said. “His last message came in two days ago. He said that he can’t wait for their vacation to start, he has it all planned.”

 

“Christ.” Mary stood up and walked over to stand behind Sherlock’s chair. He tipped the screen back so she could read it better. “Is he the one who took her?”

 

“He’s the strongest candidate thus far. Really, though, he wasn’t even trying to be subtle. Robyn never deleted the texts or messages, so tracking him down shouldn’t be too difficult. I’ve sent this to Lestrade to look into. He said he’d call me back when they’ve found him.”

 

“I’m surprised you’re not running after him yourself.”

 

“My being there isn’t going to change whether they find him or not. From what I can tell, he’s not a very intelligent man. If he’s not at his house, I’ll look for clues myself, but if he is – it will all be resolved come noon.”

 

“And you didn’t even need me at all.” Mary grinned. Sherlock shrugged.

 

“I was trying to be proactive.”

 

“Knickers!” Olivia screamed. Sherlock snorted, and Mary looked startled.

 

“I didn’t teach her that one.” She said, blushing slightly as Olivia shouted it again.

 

“It was only a matter of time before John decided to initiate some form of payback, I’m sure.” Sherlock soothed.

 

The bedroom door opened, and Mary turned to see Archie standing there. Sherlock was right. The shirt hung down to his knees, and the bottoms were rolled up so much they bulged out like muffin tops over his feet. Archie rubbed his eyes wearily, and eventually dropped his arm to his side.

 

“Mom?” He asked quietly, and the smile slipped from Mary’s face as the humor fled the room in a snap.

 

“Sorry, sweetheart, your mom’s not here just yet.” She told him quietly.

 

“Hello Mrs. Watson…” He greeted, ever polite, even as it was obvious that he was more than a little distressed by the answer.

 

“Hello, Archie, how are you holding up?”

 

“All right. I hired Mr. Holmes to take my case.” He informed her, and Mary smiled gently. She walked forwards, meeting him in the hall, and crouched in front of him.

 

“Did you now? Well he’s the best at what he does.”

 

“That’s what they keep saying.” Archie agreed, he rubbed his arm nervously. “Do you think he’ll find her?”

 

“Yes, sweetheart. I do.” She ran a hand through his curls, and patted his cheek. “Why don’t you go wash up, hm? Then we’ll see what this old bachelor has around the kitchen for breakfast.”

 

He nodded, and glanced sidelong towards the door. “Do I still not have to brush my teeth?” He clarified, peering passed Mary and towards Sherlock.

 

“Still in no danger of cavities just yet.” He confirmed. Archie nodded and stumbled into the bathroom, tripping as the pajama bottoms unfolded with each step. Mary made her way back to the sitting room and sighed. “He was doing better yesterday.” Sherlock noted softly.

 

“I imagine he still is. Robyn’s all he’s ever had in his life; losing her like this is scary for him. But he does seem fond of you, and coming here is far better than the alternative.”

 

“Do you think so?” Sherlock asked curiously.

 

“Yes.” Mary replied, tone short. She was serious, and she was ready to fight him if he attempted to argue otherwise. “Now, what do you have by way of food?” She asked. “And don’t argue with me, you’re eating too. If you don’t, he’ll say he doesn’t have to, and then we’ll have a real fight on our hands.”

 

“If that’s the case, than I have a proposition for you.” Sherlock offered, standing up and rotating Olivia to sit on his hip as he walked into the kitchen.

 

“Oh?”

 

“If you promise not to tell a soul about what you’re about to witness, including your husband, then I will teach Olivia various parts of the human anatomy to say whenever John enters the room.”

 

“Sounds good so far.” Sherlock nodded and then passed his goddaughter back into Mary’s embrace.

 

“Hold her.” He instructed, before turning to cupboards and starting to remove various pans from their shelves. Archie joined them after a few minutes, dressed in the same clothes he was wearing the night before.

 

Sherlock opened the refrigerator and pulled out eggs, milk, and even some bacon. Mary couldn’t quite believe he had anything edible in the cooler before he closed the door and started to get to work on it. “Can I help?” Archie asked as he watch Sherlock snatch various items off the shelf and the cookware to put it all in.

 

“You can whisk.”  Sherlock informed him, passing him the tool and motioning with his wrist what he was meant to do with it.

 

Mary watched, more impressed than anything else, as Sherlock instructed him on every part of the cooking process. She eyed a stool tucked under the sink, and pulled it out for Archie to stand on while Sherlock helped him turn the bacon and mix the eggs in their respective pans. Scrambled eggs became fluffier with milk added into it, and cream cheese was a delightful additive as well. Bacon needed to be brought up to temperature slowly, or else they burned too quickly and lost all their flavor. Watching the grease sizzle was a good indicator on how hot the pan was.

 

Sherlock gave out instructions while Archie followed them with serious eyes. His tongue was firmly in the corner of his mouth as he struggled to remember and complete each task he was given. Olivia, meanwhile, called out various curse words of encouragement as the pair handled the meal.

 

Once finished, Sherlock served each person a plate. He retrieved silverware from a mason jar sitting next on top of a book on bio-chemical warfare, and handed them out dutifully. Olivia had started eating eggs only recently, after being cleared for any allergy. She eyes the eggs now with delight, declaring them to be ‘brilliant.’

 

“I thought she only knew how to curse.” Archie commented in surprise.

 

“For shame, Archie. Lady Olivia has far more decorum than that. She knows all manner of words when it pleases her to share them.” Sherlock informed him as Mary worked to feed both herself and her child.

 

Sherlock’s phone binged loudly, and he retrieved it from his pocket.

 

**_Thanks for the tip. Found Robyn. She’s shaken up, but all right. Taking her to the hospital now just to make sure. Jeremy Robbins in custody. GL_ **

 

Sherlock passed the phone to Archie to read, and the boy’s eyes widened with delight. “You did it!” He breathed out, looking at Sherlock with such hero worship, the consultant wasn’t sure what he was meant to do with it all. “You found her.”

 

“I did say that I-” Archie stood up from his seat so fast he knocked his chair backwards.

 

“Sodding stupid!” Olivia decreed.

 

Archie wrapped his arms around Sherlock’s body, and his shoulders started hitching up and down as tears leaked from his eyes. Sherlock released his fork and awkwardly hugged the boy back. He gave a quick glance to Mary who seemed to find his discomfort the most adorable thing since Olivia’s first curse word.

 

“Thank you. Thank you. You really are the best.”

 

“It…wasn’t much.” Sherlock said, uncertain and uncomfortable with this. He hoped Olivia never became so affectionate. Thus far her vocabulary certainly suggested otherwise.

 

“Come now, love, finish your breakfast. We’ll take you over to see your mom just after, all right?” Mary suggested, successfully circumnavigating another curse word Olivia had forming by putting a fork full of eggs in her daughter’s mouth. Olivia’s eyes narrowed. She wouldn’t be tricked like that again.

 

Archie hurried back to his plate and practically inhaled the rest of his food. Sherlock and Mary continued at a far more sedate pace, but didn’t tarry too much. They knew where Archie’s head was at right now.

 

It didn’t take long at all for them to make it to the hospital. Lestrade met them at the door and escorted them to Robyn’s room. He told them that she was completely fine, physically. Jeremy had wanted to have a date with her, in his head at least. He gave her dinner, they watched a movie, and then he let her go to bed. It would have been lovely, had the doors not been locked the whole time, and she’d been there as a consenting participant.

 

Archie threw himself into his mother’s arms the moment he saw her, and they cried into each other’s bodies from relief. Robyn thanked them over and over for taking care of him, and finding her so quickly. “I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you.” She told Sherlock desperately.

 

“Archie paid me to take on your case, Ms. Tailor.” Sherlock told her simply. “He gave me a five pound note and I agreed to do whatever I could to keep him safe until I could find you to return him to your care. You owe me nothing. Isn’t that right, Archie?”

 

“Yes, sir. Mr. Holmes.” Archie told him, back straight and chin tilted up. “And when I found the five pounds back in my pocket this morning, I left it on your counter to make sure you still had it.” Sherlock blinked, momentarily at a loss of words. 

 

“Thank you…” He settled, struggling to come up with an adequate response to the boy’s gesture.

 

“You saved my mom. For five pounds. Thank _you_.”

 

“Archie, I would have done it without the money as well.” He told the boy, just to be certain he understood.

 

“But you deserve it anyway.” Archie said simply.

 

“Right. Well…you’re safe.” He said to Archie. “You’re home.” He said to Robyn. “I’m glad of each. Best of luck to you both.”

 

Saying his goodbyes, he left their hospital room. Archie gave Mary and Olivia a hug, and then they joined him outside as well. They walked out of the hospital together, and Sherlock buried his hands in his pockets as he thought back to the bizarre twenty-four hours he’d had.

 

“You know, Sherlock, you really didn’t need me here today.” Mary said lightly.

 

“If Jeremy Robbins had been anyone else, we might not have found her. Even finding her as we did, she might not have been in any position to care for her son. We were lucky today. Archie and Robyn were lucky today. If anything else had happened…he could very well have become an orphan. In that scenario- yes. I would have preferred to have you there.”

 

“I don’t know.” Mary said, nudging his arm. “You did all right on your own.”

 

“Bloody stupid!” Olivia said, earning her a startled look from the grieving families in the waiting room.

 

“Quite right, Olivia. What a bloody stupid idea.” Sherlock ducked into his collar and turned away, ignoring how Mary just smiled and leaned forwards to give him a kiss on his cheek. She knew better.

 

She half expected that _he_ knew better too. He was just too bloody stupid to realize it.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Got a prompt you want filled? Want to just say hi? Let me know! 
> 
> falcon-fox-and-coyote.tumblr.com


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